


Black & White

by cadkitten



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Angst, Cigarettes, Internal Monologue, M/M, POV First Person, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-12
Updated: 2009-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reality is supposed to be black and white.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black & White

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt[s]: Prompt 0024: [Incense Photo](http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3308/3290710115_0c71a0b238.jpg?v=0) \- Due March 15, for **prompt_rotation**  
>  Comments: I'm not in a good place in my life right now. Forgive me for it coming out in my writing... but I need it.  
> Beta Readers: witheringwhite, kawaiikyo  
> Song[s]: " A Gift To You" by Mindflow

Die POV

"Reality is supposed to be black and white." He says it with a manner of certainty in his voice that can't be argued with. The way his face is set rings of confusion with a certain forlorn undertone.

"What do you mean?" My own brows furrow in bewilderment. It could mean anything. Everything he says has a certain cryptic value to it that no one else's words have ever had.

He shakes his head, silence enveloping us. For a moment, I almost think he's not going to answer me, and just like everything else in that category, I start to file it under something so very Kyo that I cannot understand it. But then he speaks again, this time his voice full of pain.

"Reality is supposed to be black and white." The incense in the tray between us crumbles and the last embers die out. "But it isn't."

The words themselves are foreboding, but his tone is worse. It tugs at my heart, trying to break me apart. I wish I understood. I want to understand. "Kyo?"

His brown eyes slide shut for a moment and his breath whispers out from between his lips in a vague approximation of a sigh. He knows I don't understand and it frustrates him. "I see it now... finally. The world as I have always seen it is the truth. Where I thought I was perhaps seeing too much, I was only seeing what is."

Pieces of his lyrics float through my mind, the underlying meanings as I have taken them appearing with venom in my head: abortion, rape, anger, pain, broken hearts... evil. My fingers slide over the surface of the varnished table, looking far too pale in the florescent lights. "What happened?"

Again, he shakes his head. "If I say... there will only be more pain." When he reaches for my cigarettes, I know it has to be bad. He gave that up years ago. A habit he swore to never pick up again.

My hand covers his, holding it firm and our eyes meet. "Kyo... don't."

His fingers tighten on the carton and he looks away. "You have no idea what I feel like right now... how much I need this." There's a sheen in his eyes that can only be tears. It hits me that he doesn't cry for no reason. If it's that bad, then I truly don't have any idea.

I let go of his hand and he extracts a single white cylinder, putting it to his lips and picking my lighter up from the table. The flame flickers to life and he touches it to the cigarette, inhaling before simply watching the flame, his eyes glued to it. White smoke filters up between us as he exhales. When he closes his eyes, the tears slip free, tracking down his cheeks like twin silent bombs falling from the sky.

My own heart aches. There's a rip in the fabric of my soul. When he hurts... I hurt. Just from this, I know that without him, I am nothing. I draw his hand back into my own, closing the lighter and putting it aside. My lips graze lightly over his fingers and then press against his palm, my eyes watching his face for a reaction.

The smallest of smiles tugs the corner of his lips and when he opens his eyes, it actually meets them in a way I haven't seen since I met him so many years ago. When I reach for the cigarette this time, he lets me have it. I take a single drag and then crush it out on the same tray as the incense. "You don't need an addiction. You have me."

There's a flash of pure pain in his eyes and I wonder for an instant if I've said the wrong thing. But then his hand turns to clutch at my own and he just shakes his head again. "Maybe so."

"Not maybe. You do." Strength is laced into my words that I didn't even know I had. But the conviction of the statement is more than clear.

His fingers play with my own, finally curling them with his own so that he's clasping my hand, our fingers interweaved. A serious expression plays over his features that I know so well. "If I want more than you're willing to give, then there is a maybe, Die."

"You already have everything."

His eyes meet my own again and he studies me for a long time. A soft laugh leaves his lips and he shakes his head again. "Reality isn't black and white."

I start to ask him again, what he really means. But his voice cuts me off.

"Sometimes it's blue." His hand wrenches free of my own and ghosts over my cheek. "And sometimes... it's red."

I can only sit there stunned as he stands up, leaning over me, and presses his lips to my own. There's a heat there that I never expected, but that I welcome all the same. It's brief, subdued... but it's our moment. When he moves away, he just studies me for a moment and then smiles before turning and walking away.

I let him go. The deepest parts of me know he'll be back. He just needs his time alone... his time to figure out whatever it was that he was talking about. It's then that it hits me - the meaning of his words. Reality is nothing like I thought it was. It's more. His words are nothing but a steady truth. Reality _isn't_ black and white.

**The End**  



End file.
